


regnant

by Lirazel



Category: Infinite (Band), K-POP RPF, K-pop, Korean Pop, Kpop-Fandom
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirazel/pseuds/Lirazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pictures may reveal a lot, but there's even more they can't capture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	regnant

**Author's Note:**

> **Inspired by:** [this](http://infinite7soul.com/2013/10/18/starcasttrans-infinite-tour-note-taiwan-story-written-by-sung-jong/)

 

The second the door closes behind Sungjong, Howon is across the room and has him pressed up against it, pinning him firmly in place with the hardness of his body, his chest rising and falling against Sungjong’s own. Sungjong had been expecting this, so he manages not to drop the camera, even when Howon breathes, “I thought you were never coming back,” hot against his neck and then licks his way up to Sungjong’s mouth, fastening his own over it before Sungjong has time to groan. The wood of the door is cool even through the thickness of his robe and he’s holding onto the camera so hard his fingers start to ache, but it doesn’t matter because Howon’s got one hand on his hip and the other in his hair and is kissing him in that desperate way no one else has ever kissed him. Sungjong allows himself a moment to indulge in the taste of Howon’s mouth, the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth, the warmth of his hands—but only a moment. Long before he’s had his fill of Howon’s mouth, he pulls away, the back of his head thunking lightly against the door, Howon’s lips parted and glistening as he breathes hard. Their faces are only centimeters apart, Howon’s tilted up because of the height difference, and it gives Sungjong a little thrill: despite the strength of Howon’s hands gripping him, Sungjong is taller: Howon has to look up at him. 

“Did I say you could touch me?” 

He doesn’t even have to make his voice sharp—in fact, bored works better in cases like this. Sungjong has just long enough to see Howon’s pupils dilate and then Howon has snapped away from him, standing a pace away with his hands clasped behind his back. It’s a nice touch, the hands-behind-back, like a soldier in front of a commander or—better—a servant waiting for orders from his master. Sungjong has never instructed Howon to do that, has never even mentioned it, but then Howon has never needed any guidance when it comes to the games they play. If pressed, Sungjong would even say Howon took to it much easier than Sungjong had.

But any hesitance Sungjong had felt when they first started is far behind him now, and it’s so easy to tilt his head imperiously and stride away from the door like a prince, not sparing a glance for Howon. He settles himself on the couch, crossing his legs, still holding the camera carefully, and lazily shifts his gaze to Howon, who’s standing in the same pose, only turned to face Sungjong again and with his eyes on the floor.

“It’s not like you to get impatient.” The bored tone is easier now, too. Not that he doesn’t get a lot of practice with it—he’s constantly surrounded by six hyungs and their various shades of idiot. But it’s never been one he uses when he and Howon are alone, at least not before this started. It’s not that Howon is older than him that made his first attempts so tentative; Sungjong’s always been able to switch off deference for his elders in the blink of an eye when he wants to. Any reluctance he had was because this is Howon, and that’s always made the difference.

“I’m sorry,” Howon says, not raising his eyes. Sungjong smiles, carefully removing the data card from the camera and stowing it in its small container in his bag so that he’ll know exactly where it is. The thing he likes best about Howon when they’re playing is that he doesn’t try to oversell it. Too deferential a tone and it would kick Sungjong right out of the mood, leave him disgusted. Not to mention that he’d die laughing if Howon ever called him a name—sir, or master or anything like that. Matter-of-fact but humble is the way Howon approaches it, and it’s just right. All of Howon’s instincts are right when it comes to Sungjong.

And Sungjong’s learned to trust his own in return. Before Howon’s first tense, whispered confession, before their first kiss and the realization that they were in the same place, those instincts had been an exact match for Howon’s. Even as they grew closer, their relationship more physical, they were unerring. It was when Howon started taking his first careful steps towards the new dynamic between them—letting Sungjong know in little ways what he wanted, what he’d fantasized about—that Sungjong had started to distrust himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the new direction Howon had started to steer them. He did, very much, and perhaps that was what made him hesitate. It came almost too easily, and that made him nervous, made him worry that he’d go too far, end up hurting Howon—not physically; he knew he could be careful there, and Howon is strong. But in other ways. And Howon already carries around far more hurt than most people ever realize. Sungjong refuses to add to that burden.

But Howon had been unfaltering, and with each new twist, Sungjong found steady ground to step out onto. He’s never taken a misstep yet. And now it’s so second-nature that he can relax into it, enjoy it fully, without worrying that he’ll damage Howon or about how people would react if they knew. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Howon enjoys it more now, too. It isn’t surprising—for Howon it’s always been even more about Sungjong than it is about himself.

“I wasn’t even gone that long.” Sungjong glances down at his nails. They’re a bit more ragged than he usually lets them get, but the noonas will take care of that tomorrow. “Just long enough to take a few pictures of the hyungs. It’s for the tour notes. For the fans.” He’ll type up the captions later, choosing each word carefully, making the fans feel like they’ve been invited into his world if only for a short while, but leaving out the most important details of the night. Those details don’t belong to anyone but him and Howon.

“It seemed like a very long time,” Howon offers.

Sungjong buffs a nail on his robe. “Did it?”

“It always does.”

Well. He’s not wrong about that. It’s always too a long a wait for the next time they can be close; their schedules don’t permit anything else. They’ll go for days, even weeks at a time without finding a moment to kiss, and the times together they manage to snag never last long enough. No longer being roommates makes it better and worse—Sungjong misses their whispered conversations after they turn out the lights more than he could say, misses the weight of Howon’s eyes on him when he’s changing and the comfort of knowing Howon is in the room. But it’s also easier to wait when what you want isn’t right in front of your eyes all the time. And there are hotel rooms and times when the others aren’t home and even a few middle-of-the-night meetings in a locked practice room when it’s been a particularly long time. 

But those times seem even fewer now than they used to, and the frustration that accompanies the wait isn’t just sexual. Though the sexual side of it works to Sungjong’s advantage and he’d certainly played it up today. Just knowing that they’d have a hotel room to themselves tonight was enough to let him slip into his role, and a few of the more observant hyungs had something to him about him being awfully cool and aloof today. Sungjong didn’t mind; they’ve all seen him go through mood swings far more severe and they should just be glad all the door slamming is behind them. Sungjong had ignored their comments, instead basking in the feel of Howon’s steady eyes on him throughout the day. It was hot, pretending not to notice or care that Howon was looking at him like that. Hot, too, pressing up behind him in the elevator and whispering suggestive things in his ear before breezing out the door when it dinged like he hadn’t said anything at all. Leaning over him on the plane to reach for something—it didn’t matter what. Looking at Howon across the table at an interview and tapping his finger against the table and arching a brow and watching Howon shift in response.

He’d stepped it up when they finally dragged their suitcases into the room. He took a shower immediately, pulling on a robe instead of his pajamas afterwards. Back out in the room, the practiced motions made it seem entirely accidental when the slit gaped, offering Howon glimpses of his thighs, though there was nothing accidental about the way he’d grabbed Howon’s ass as they passed each other when Howon went into the bathroom himself. And Howon had known exactly what he meant when Sungjong ‘suggested’ that he take a short, cold shower. Howon was in and out in just a few minutes, and Sungjong had smiled his catfish smile; if he’d thought for a second that Howon was in there taking the edge off, he’d have to make sure that Howon didn’t get any relief tonight at all. But he’d been good and hadn’t murmured a word of complaint and ordered room service—picking Sungjong’s favorite meal, of course—without needing any instructions. Sungjong had snapped a few pictures for the tour notes, then focused on his dinner, toying with the idea of making Howon feed him, but that just seemed toi over the top. 

And okay, maybe it was way too over the top for him to stick his hand down Howon’s pants as soon as the plates had been taken away, pumping him roughly a few times and making him throw his head back and moan. But it gave Sungjong the opportunity to admire the line of Howon’s neck, to lean over and nip at one of his tendons, smiling again as Howon thrust up into his hand. But he withdrew immediately, leaving Howon flushed and wild-eyed, patted his butt, and said, “Later.”

He’s always enjoyed watching Howon walk when he’s got a hard-on, and he laughed as Howon made his way to the bed, sat down and pulled a pillow into his lap. Laughed still more as he snapped some pictures, amused at Howon’s studiously serious face that barely wavered when Sungjong said, off-hand, “The fans will never even know you’re hiding a boner under that pillow. It’s their loss; it’s quite impressive,” though his mask fell away as soon as Sungjong lowered the camera. Hard himself at the thought of all of those people looking at pictures of Howon and never knowing just how Sungjong was affecting him, Sungjong couldn’t resist slipping his hand under the pillow again to grope Howon through his pants, drinking in the way Howon breathed hard through his nose to keep his audible reactions from spilling out, the way his grip on his notebook tightened so that his bones stood out white on the backs of his hands. 

A little later, Sungjong had barely managed to keep a straight face when he ordered Howon to come take pictures of his face-cleaning routine and Howon had had to practically waddle into the bathroom. Sungjong could have set the camera on the shelf and used the timer, but the thought of performing for Howon’s eyes and the camera revealing nothing was too tempting to pass up. Besides, Howon’s always gotten off on the sight of Sungjong’s nightly routine—“I like seeing your real face be uncovered,” he’d said once—and Sungjong didn’t even have to make it teasing or sultry—the fans would never even know.

He’d made sure that Howon wasn’t losing any hardness before he slipped out the door to go take pictures of the other members, and even while he coaxed Sunggyu-hyung to make faces for the camera and bid Dongwoo-hyung a warm goodnight and teased Sungyeol-hyung about his tearful drama viewing, part of his mind had been back in the room. He hadn’t even needed to tell Howon that he better leave his erection alone; Howon knew good and well by this time that if he tried to take care of it himself, he’d suffer later. It was gratifying, sexy, knowing that Howon was waiting for him, trying to concentrate on new lyrics but unable to focus due to how turned on he was. Sungjong hoped Howon had managed a few lines, though; he smiled to himself at the thought of Howon performing them later, remembering how Sungjong had made him feel when he was writing them. Sungjong toyed with the idea of staying with Myungsoo and Sungyeol for a while to torture Howon for a bit longer, but in the end his own anticipation was enough to make him hurry back to their room, glad he had decided to slip on underwear under his robe so as not to give anything away to anyone else. He didn’t want to make things awkward with the hyungs, of course, and there was always the chance of a fan booking a room so she could sneak up to their floor and snoop around. No one could know.

The lack of control Howon showed when he pressed Sungjong up against the door was all the confirmation Sungjong needed that Howon had spent the entire time he was alone thinking about Sungjong. And maybe that’s the best part of their game: when they’re playing, they’re always completely focused on each other, even when Sungjong is pretending not to be. He has the harder end of the bargain.

Because Howon is allowed to show as much of his eagerness as he wants, as long as he doesn’t do anything he’s not instructed or invited to first. That’s a good thing, too: Howon is by far the better actor, but not when it comes to Sungjong. When they’re alone, Howon is hopeless at hiding his adoration, his need, and frankly Sungjong is thankful for the excuse to pretend to be untouchable; he’s not sure he’s ever going to be comfortable showing just how much Howon’s worship makes his heart pound, his head spin. He knows that Howon knows, and he’s glad, because he never wants Howon to doubt that he needs Howon as badly as Howon needs him. But showing it the way Howon does? It makes him feel far too naked and when his whole life is an attempt to share with the fans just what he wants to of who he is but no more, it’s nice to be able to hold things back when he’s away from the cameras, to know that Howon knows it all anyway and that it’s not possible to slip up with him.

Howon always knows who he is, what he needs, and by some miracle Howon wants the rewards Sungjong offers just as much as Sungjong wants to give them. 

The rewards are for both of them, Sungjong thinks as he crooks a single finger and Howon rushes over, falling to his knees in front of Sungjong and sliding his hands up Sungjong’s calves and thighs so worshipfully that Sungjong almost feels embarrassed. That’s another reason to be glad of his clear role in this game; he never has to show that embarrassment. 

Howon is so _overwhelming_ in his love that Sungjong sometimes thinks there has to be something wrong with it. Should one person adore another quite that much? He thinks his pastor would say that that level of devotion should belong only to God, and yet Sungjong has read the Song of Solomon and there’s nothing staid or anemic about the love there. _They weren’t married either_ , he reminds himself sometimes, glad he’d read that commentary. _They weren’t married and they’re still in the Bible._ That had actually been more of a trip-up for him than the whole Howon-is-also-a-guy part. Sungjong had read various translations of the pertinent passages and felt that they weren’t particularly convincing, and though his younger self would be scandalized, his older self has lived long enough in the idol world to know that some people really are born that way. And he’s lived long enough with Howon to know that there isn’t anything ugly or twisted or wrong about what Howon feels for him and what he feels in return. Their emotions, he’s sure, are pure, even if he’s still not sure if what they do together is alright in God’s eyes. 

But surely God would approve of a man who loves as well as Howon does. Howon is patient and kind and all the other things that love is supposed to be, and he’s a good man and so talented and Sungjong doesn’t know how he can be all those things and also be so beautiful. Howon tells him all the time that he’s beautiful, but Sungjong thinks he severely underrates his own appeal, especially in moments like now when he’s on his knees looking up at Sungjong like—well, Sungjong isn’t going to search for some sort of simile because it would only stray into greasy territory and that’s not who he is. Besides, the only thing he really wants to focus on is the feeling of Howon’s strong hands sliding up his legs.

The game is a competition of sorts: Sungjong tries desperately to appear unaffected by anything and everything Howon does; Howon does his best—and, being Lee Howon, his best is _very_ good—to make Sungong crack. In between, there’s commands from Sungjong, only some of which come in the form of words, and all sorts of teasing of Howon, and lots and lots of Howon lavishing worship on Sungjong. Sungjong would feel guilty about it except that there’s no missing the fact that Howon enjoys it as much as he does. So he can make a gesture, have Howon carry him to the bed—not like a bride or a child or someone who’s injured, but like a ruler being carried by a servant, like the avatar of a god whose priests don’t let his feet touch the ground—and let Howon lay him out and unfold his robe and do what they’ve both been fantasizing about all day.

Howon’s mouth and hands and body are all intoxicating, but Sungjong is stubborn, and his will is a match for Howon’s skills. He may not be able to keep the sweat from breaking out all over his body, may not be able to regulate his breathing or the speed of his heartbeat, but he can swallow back his moans, bite down on his wrist to keep his whimpers at bay, turn his face into the pillow and scream. And when it gets to be so much that he thinks he’s going to break down sobbing, he can push Howon back down onto the mattress and press down his wrists and tease him until Howon is begging over and over again and groaning Sungjong’s name in a way that makes him feel sovereign.

When they’re alone, Sungjong doesn’t have to bow his head to anyone, doesn’t have to measure his words, doesn’t have to make choices based on what the fans will think or what will leave the best impression with sunbaes and producers. Here, everything he does is right—not just right, but infallible, at least as far as Howon is concerned. Nothing he does is met with anything but veneration, and every bit of Howon is focused on pleasing him. And afterwards, when they’re spent and exhausted, he lets Howon wrap himself around him. He’d always thought that having someone hold him like that would make him feel constricted, suffocated, but somehow, with Howon, all it is is comfort. Howon rubs his cheek against Sungjong’s chest as Sungjong runs long fingers through his sweaty hair, scratching lightly at his scalp till Howon makes an almost purring sound. And he thinks that the game, maybe, isn’t a game so much as it is both of them being allowed to be who they are—who they want to be—for each other. Even if they’re allowed that liberty no other time, when they’re alone together they can embrace it, and the fact that no one else knows just makes it better.

They both fall into sleep easily, and tomorrow they’ll perform for the fans.


End file.
